


Not Talking

by TerryMcKay



Category: Bodyguard (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M, what anger can do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:16:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24477079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerryMcKay/pseuds/TerryMcKay
Summary: Julia found out about David's attempts to spy on her and the consequences followed. Now, a few months later, he tries to get her to listen to him.
Relationships: David Budd & Julia Montague, David Budd/Julia Montague
Comments: 22
Kudos: 84
Collections: In Lockdown With Keeley





	Not Talking

**Author's Note:**

> This was a struggle and for a while, I didn't think I would be able to contribute anything for this challenge. But my stubbornness prevailed and there we are. 
> 
> The initial prompt I used was: "No, I am not talking to you." But somewhere along the way, "I hate you" / "No, you don't" found its way in as well.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Excessive work, wine, tears, anger and more wine. That is how the past few months could be summed up for Julia Montague. Still, Home Secretary for the UK, even if her popularity is hanging by a thread at the moment with RIPA having been adopted by Parliament at long last. 

But Julia could live with that, doesn’t think about it twice if she is quite frank. Perhaps she should. Care. Care for those numbers, care for what people thought, care for the advice her personal advisor gives her. But the fact is, she doesn’t. There was a time when she did or thought she did. It now seems lifetimes ago. Living a lie, deluding herself, even imagining a life beyond the one in a hotel suite. That’s how it seems to her now. One little suitcase with means to overhear her, spy on her and a stuttering admission were all it took to burst that little bubble. 

She shed her tears of anger, mourned what could have been, ignored her shattered heart and moved on. Gone are the days of sorrow, of feeling lost. It stopped her right in her tracks, threw her back, diminished months of work. 

Like a phoenix, Julia rose from her ashes, left her broken heart behind and she now has one clear goal in mind: becoming Prime Minister. At this point, there is almost no prize she would not pay to reach her goal. Sleepless nights and bags under her eyes seem like a small price to pay to get back where she was before it all happened, before he happened. 

The only times she still feels remnants of her broken heart are when she wakes up in the middle of the night to an empty bed with her hand reaching out to find his warm body. It doesn’t happen too often now. When it does, she usually curses herself, turns around and bans even a single thought of him. 

Her routine is just the same as it was before, perhaps more intense. It’s almost as if their time never existed. She wakes up in the small hours of the morning, answers emails, gets to work, hustles harder than before, holds conferences, goes to parliament, comes back to the Home Office to more conferences and only goes back home when it’s dark outside and almost everyone has left the building. It helps. Keeps her sane. Stops her wandering mind. 

She even agreed to dinner with a colleague of hers once. Samar Anand is his name. He is the rising star of the party. Two years her junior, devilishly handsome, intelligent and charming. She is well aware that it is nothing beyond some play and fun. Men usually don’t want to be with her for herself. It was nice nevertheless. Making an effort, going out, actually enjoying someone’s company, even if her heart was locked in a freezer. That night, even if nothing beyond dinner, too much wine, flirting and some innocent kisses on the doorstep to her flat happened. It was nice, freeing even. 

Samar made indications that night that he wanted more, made a go at her. But like an invisible wall something - or rather, someone - stopped her. She couldn’t take that step just yet. Once again, she cursed David, had one more reason to hate him. No matter what she did, there always was something that reminded her of him. It was unnerving.

“What stops you?” was Samar’s question shortly before he left that night. It had a tone of resignation to it. Julia knew that nothing would come off this flirtation and for once the usually so eloquent Miss Montague was at a loss for words. What was she to say about something that officially had not happened, that could still get her into trouble if anyone found out?

That was last night. The subsequent foul mood is now dragged into today’s meetings and onto her underlings. She is just that much more touchy that day. To her employees, there isn’t much of a difference. She is always tough on them, but Julia knows. She feels it. 

“Tahir, if you could just finish the research and set it all up instead of coming up with more ideas to help the opposing party until I come back, I would highly appreciate it,” Julia snaps as she snatches her briefcase and gives PC Fenton indication that she wants to leave. 

Tahir mumbles an awkward “yes, ma’am” as she dashes past him, not quite sure what to make of her statement. 

Julia doesn’t care. Her day has been long enough as it is. The sooner she got it past her and could coop herself back up in her flat with her usual wine, the better. Still, there is an entire session in parliament and another few hours in her office.

“Six - eight, lavender on the way to underground parking,” She hears her PPO speak into his radio as she steps into the elevator. 

Her mind is far away, occupied with the notes in her bag, that she needs to go over before she arrives at Parliament when she has to face Roger again. Stepping out of the elevator oblivious to anything beyond work she walks straight to the car. The figure looming in the shadows remains unnoticed by her and her detail, until, yes, until it steps out into the light just as Julia passes them. 

Tom jumps right in front of her before anyone can respond. “Sir, I need you to step away from the Home Secretary.” 

For a split second, everything happens too fast, yet in slow motion and Julia doesn’t know how to react. The last person she expects to see in the underground parking lot was the man her heart still longed for, yet hated with the same fervour. It immediately skipped a beat once she saw him and it was only partly down to the fright he gave her. 

Overwhelmed by the entire situation, unable to comprehend any of it, Julia just stands there, staring at her PPO and David, with Tom trying, albeit failing at getting some distance between her and her former PPO.

“Ma’am, can I talk to you… please?” 

She hears him ask, the last word added as some kind of a plea. All it does is nurture her urge to ignore him. Pleas have never worked on her. They may have been successful while she still trusted him. This is a thing of the past, however. The only effect it has on her now is her wish to turn on her heel and make a beeline towards the car, leave him in the lurch. All of her emotions are in turmoil, fighting and screaming at her to do something. So, she does and takes a step back, glances at her PPO, still shielding her from the intruder and turns around and walks towards the car. 

She can only hear the two men now. Tom repeating his request and David ignoring it once again. Her mind is racing. Every thought reserved for work, every shred of focus that may have been left for her speech are gone. Three months, almost four of radio silence. Admittedly, she blocked every single one of his attempts to talk to her. After a while, he must have given up as his efforts ceased. It was then that she knew it was truly over. She bit back more tears, drowned them in wine and tried to move on.

Now, of all places, he decides to turn up again. Just when she has regained the inkling of normalcy again. Having reached the car, at last, she feels she is safe from him. Almost. But then she hears him again.

“Julia, please!”

It’s as if something breaks inside Julia. Just like a stone that is smashed through the glass of a window that is supposed to shield from any oncoming rain or storm, the use of her name breaks a lock inside her as well. A lock to a door that captivated in all her rage, protected herself and others from it, is no more. The hurricane that built up inside breaks out at last. Julia whisks around and stalks towards David. 

Throwing caution to the wind, not caring if Tom or her driver would put two and two together, she all but hisses at him once she reaches her former lover again, while Tom automatically takes a step back, seeing that she is danger personified. 

“Tom, if you excuse us for a minute,” she bites out through gritted teeth.

It isn’t a request and even though it takes everything in Tom not to retaliate, he nods and concedes. Her body language, the lack of eye contact as she uttered the words and the sheer rage she exudes, makes his decision an easy one. Whatever his colleague’s done to her to incur her wrath, he does not want to be in his shoes. So, Tom takes a discreet step back and continues to eye them from afar. 

“How dare you! How dare you come here of all places to ambush me? After all, you have done? How do you think it makes me look when you come here? Don’t you ever do that again and no, I am most definitely not talking to you. Not now and not ever.”

Julia fixes him with a glare that would have chilled anyone else to the bone. But David knows her, knows Julia and he knows that he is the reason for the anger. What he also knows, however, is that he is desperate. 

“Julia, please, let me explain. I was blackmailed, my kids…,” he trails off, nearly stumbling over his words in desperation and hurry. 

Julia doesn’t want to listen, doesn’t want to give him even a minute of her time, doesn’t want to make the whole scene look even more suspicious than it already does. But the moment he mentions his kids, she looks straight into his eyes. There is a lot she has doubts about, a lot she distrusts when it comes to him. One thing, she knows though, is that David would never make up a lie about his children. That much she knows. 

When his glance catches hers, she knows he spoke the truth. All the pain, the despair, sadness and pleading is something Julia cannot deny or overlook. She doesn’t want to be weak or open the door to him even a bit, but she can’t resist him. Perhaps it would help her close the chapter Budd for good, help her move on, find peace if she gave him that opportunity. 

A sigh escapes her and she looks down on the pavement underneath them. Once again, they are standing much too close together to be regarded as strictly professional. In her rage, she had not thought about personal space. It’s too late now. 

“I want to tell you the truth, explain everything. Please let me talk to you, Julia. That’s all I want. But please, give me that chance.”

“You know, I should have you removed off the premises… I am not sure what there is to explain: you used me and spied on me. That seems pretty clear to me,” she still has to keep her rage under control as not to lash out. It’s out of place now and besides, her curiosity fights the anger and wins. For now at least. 

So, she continues “You have one hour to explain it to me before you can fuck off again. Come to my flat tonight. 9 pm. Don’t be late.”

With that Julia nods to Tom before she turns around again and swiftly moves into the black BMW, her mind racing with thoughts of David. How she would calm down before the session starts, is beyond her, but there has to be some way. So, she plucks out her speech out of the briefcase and forces her thoughts on the words.

*******

Julia isn’t even pretending to be productive when she comes home that night. There is still time until David is to show up. The late hour was deliberate, to let him wait, to perhaps make it impossible for him to come and to give her some time to be ready to face him. Yes, she may still be raging with fury, but her body made it very evident what it wanted when she stood in front of him earlier. This could and should not happen. Ever again. She simply needed to cut him out of her life. Go cold-turkey. Perhaps bedding another man might be helpful after all, she muses before she dismisses the thought again. 

Yet, she still finds herself changing into comfortable, albeit chic clothes she knew, David would like. Why does she do this? Why does she still have to make an effort? It is almost a little unsettling and doesn’t do anything to help with her anger or her nerves. This was anger directed at herself more than at anyone else. 

She wishes for that ball of fury that seems to have been an almost constant companion lately to just disappear, vanish into thin air. Julia’s hopes for it to happen tonight are minuscule, yet it is her only hope.

There is still time until he is due to arrive and the fire of her thoughts is still sizzling just beneath the surface. Thoughts came back to haunt her like ghosts, now that she was faced with their culprit. Thoughts of the moment a carefully built and honed world fell apart as she realized what he did. Thoughts of when she asked him ‘ _why_ ’ and he wasn’t able to produce a proper answer and thoughts reappear of the first nights when he was gone and she was utterly alone and felt lost. They all come rushing back. It is almost unbearable. She needs to find a way to quench that fire of thoughts, if only temporarily. 

Purposefully, she strides into her kitchen, takes the almost empty bottle of red wine and fills her glass just that much fuller than propriety deems it proper. For a moment she lets the red liquid swirl in the glass, before she takes a first gulp that immediately slows her thoughts, helps her focus on the task at hand: not to lose her head or herself, not to overthink and to just stay cool and collected. 

Just at that moment, the doorbell rings. He is there. After taking another rather big swig of her glass, she opts for the door. He is standing there, looking a bit forlorn, like a naughty schoolboy who was asked to come to the principal’s office. Insecurity, guilt and something that Julia reads as a shred of hopefulness flick over his face as she opens the door. 

“I bought you wine… it’s not what you’re used to, but…,” he trails off noticing the glass in her hand. “... perhaps flowers would have been better.”

“Thank you,” she mumbles stiffly and makes a gesture for him to come in, unsure of what to reply. He simply bows his head and follows suit wordlessly. He is still as handsome and still with that irresistible cologne of his - much to Julia’s chagrin. He also is still as stoic as he always used to be, but with the air of a fish on dry land. 

What once used to be so easy-going between them, when they could talk or remain silent and still it didn’t feel awkward, where Julia, in particular, felt safe and understood, now is replaced by carefulness and uncertainty. It feels like walking on eggshells with Julia’s rage presently numbed by alcohol. 

“Do you want a drink, though I am not sure there is any beer in the fridge. I could open your bottle?” 

It feels forced and wrong but Julia’s at a loss. She is not used to these kinds of situations. But she will have to deal with it. She eyes him expectantly. He is still standing in the middle of the living room, still averting her gaze until he feels her look burning him. 

“I don’t want to put you to any trouble… you don’t have to open the bottle on my account.”

Julia wants to scream and is ready to snap at him once again, but her reaction tumbles out as a sigh instead. There is an invisible, albeit very apparent wall between them and neither is able to overcome it or understand the other. 

“Sorry, perhaps this was a bad idea,” David offers as an apology, having obviously misunderstood the meaning of Julia’s sigh. 

“Just take the wine and sit down, David. You wanted to talk. So, talk.” 

It’s not an order but it is decisive enough to come across as one as Julia hands him a glass of the red he had so carefully picked out only hours prior. 

David never was much of a wine connoisseur, so he had trusted the lady in the shop as she helped him pick the right one, following the few bits of information he could think of when it comes to Julia’s taste in wine. His decision to get her wine that was more expensive than he could usually afford, is his white flag, his attempt to appease her, to make her understand that he did know her, did listen to her and also cared for her. Besides, the countless times he brought home flowers to Vicky, sensitised him. Usually, they never had any effect, but wilted instead and were in the bin three days later. He wants this night to count or at least to be a memorable one, in case it was their last night they would ever see each other. 

He is brought back out of his reverie by Julia who finally settled down opposite him and looks at him expectantly. David thinks he can see a trace of curiosity, yet the moment he looks into her hazel eyes, it’s as if a door closes and locks all her thoughts and emotions inside. 

Now that he is with her again, now that they occupy the same room with her ready to listen to him, he doesn’t know where or how to start. No matter what he says or does, how he will try to explain it, he will be the bad guy, the one who used her trust who broke her heart, the one who deserves to be punished. 

“Julia, I am so sorry,” he starts and all he gains from that is a hardened face and a raised eyebrow. 

‘I know. You’ve said that repeatedly,’ she wants to retort but refrains. She said she wanted to give him a chance and listen to what he has to say. She represses another sigh and waits.

“Back then I was in a bad place and caught in the middle - which is no excuse for what I did -,” he quickly adds when he sees protest coming up from Julia’s side and continues before she has a chance to. 

“Part of me still thought I had to fight for my life with Vicky, for what we had. The same part wanted to ignore all the issues I had and still have, even though therapy has helped me. In the middle of that, you came in the picture. The one shining light in all that murkiness. Yet, you, too, seemed to be the same kind of people that were the very reason for … my PTSD. But you were different. You gave me a chance, gave me a new perspective. Still, I was caught because of Craddock and Sampson. The only reason I got the job was that I was to spy on you. I found that out only later. I tried to ignore it, ignore them. Didn’t want to cater to their demands. But the further we slipped into our affair, the more the pressure grew until Craddock threatened to take away the safe house my wife and kids were in. I didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know who to trust. I couldn’t talk to you, didn’t want to burden you with it. I just wanted them to go away, hoped they would just let go. But they didn’t and the longer I waited, the harder it was for me to tell you. Until it was impossible... I don’t expect you to forgive me, Julia. But please believe me that I never wanted to hurt you. It was wrong and I am sorry, I didn’t trust you enough to tell you straight away. I don’t know why I didn´t tell you. Maybe I was ashamed or I just didn’t want to face the idea of losing you. I am sorry…”

The initial struggle to even begin apologizing turned into a torrent of words that kept spilling out until he doesn’t know what to say anymore. Now that they are out, David is convinced he talked himself into trouble. He has never been the eloquent one who could bring across what he truly wanted to say. He is a man of action, not of words. For a moment he looks at her, sees her taking in his words, but as she looks at him, he cannot hold her gaze. Instead, he stares at his shoes, hoping, waiting for her final judgement. 

But there is nothing. Julia is taking in his words. 

After she found out, she ignored every single explanation, didn’t want to hear about it. The betrayal was simply too great. She doesn’t say that the words don’t hurt. But the fact that he didn’t come to her with his problem, hurts the most. She honestly thought, there was a bond and trust. Of course, there were things she could not disclose to him either, but that was her job. His spying was personal. There was no trust. 

“Did you ever trust me?”

The question is out before she can stop it and she hates herself even more for it. It sounds broken, vulnerable and reveals more about her inner state than she wants to admit in front of him. She doesn’t want to show him how he wrecked her and how part of her is still struggling to heal, to regain trust in anyone else. 

She has her best politician face on with her look fixed on him. At least this won’t give her away any further. 

Still, she waits for his reaction with bated breath. It was a slip that shouldn’t have happened, but one that could also give her clarity. 

Silence penetrates the living room, is beginning to seep under her skin and into her heart. His reply takes too long. It becomes more evident to Julia that trust was a one-way street. She trusted him, he didn’t trust her. That is painfully obvious to her now. That doesn’t make it any better, but it certainly makes the whole matter very easy for her. It’s well and truly over. At this moment, even her heart has understood that. 

Now it’s Julia’s turn to stare into the red liquid, unable to look at him. Anger flares up once more, coupled with an intense hurt that threatens to swallow her whole. It’s as if wound she nursed and that slowly started to heal, is ripped right open again, the throbbing pain is back. It’s yet another scar to her collection. What she doesn’t see at that moment of regaining a semblance of control is David’s contemplation. 

He did trust her. Still trusts her, in fact. Yet, he didn’t trust her from the very beginning, it built over time and grew stronger and stronger. It was there, but did he trust her enough to be completely and utterly open with her? He muses, the pained voice in mind as he tries to come up with an answer. He has to for she deserves it. But how can he give her an honest answer when he is not sure he can answer that question himself. Trust usually started with yourself and if trust wasn’t given within yourself how was it possible to trust others. Did he trust himself back then? If he is truly honest with himself, the answer has to be a no.

“I -,” he starts but is interrupted by Julia who gets up quite abruptly. David is unable to penetrate the veneer, to make another attempt at reading her. 

“I think you should go,” her voice is cold now. 

“Julia, please believe me. I did trust you.”

“Really? And why did it take so long to answer that? You know what I think?” 

David got up now, too. To stand equal, to be able to appease her and not feel like a little boy who is being reprimanded, to stand a chance against her? He isn’t sure. What he is sure of, however, is, that his attempt backfired completely. She is not understanding. Julia is nowhere near it, in fact. She seems even more upset than she must have been before his failed and silly attempt of an explanation. If the drop of her voice toward a hiss is any indication, he should just leave her be. But he doesn’t. Once a soldier, always a soldier. He is ready to die in combat and fight for whatever there was left between them. You are not that emotional if there isn’t any emotion for the other person left, David ponders. For that, he is ready to stand his ground in the lioness’ den. 

Meanwhile, Julia takes a step towards him. They are impossibly close now. He can smell her perfume, can see the freckles on her nose, can see how she narrowed her eyes to slits, how her beautiful face resembles the one of the angry ice-queen, he knew from the telly. 

“I think, you just used me because it was convenient- because you wanted the information. I don’t believe you ever trusted me. I was a nice shag, but now you’ve got what you wanted and you have got your wife back,” she stops, clenches her jaw, but before he can respond or defend himself, she continues. 

“So, no hard feelings. I want you to leave. Just… go, David.”

Julia finally steps back, quirks her eyebrow and makes enough way for him to slip past her, out of the door and out of her life. There is no room for discussion. David knows pleading won’t help now. He also knows that if he does what she asks him to if he exits that door, it will close forever. Desperation and panic settle in his chest. She will continue to ricochet but he can’t let her out of his life. Nevertheless, if this is her choice, he should accept it, shouldn’t he? 

David bows his head once more and moves past her, mumbling a last word of apology. He has nearly reached the door when he turns around again. If this is the last goodbye, then there is nothing left to lose. 

“Is that really what you want?”

“Yes,” she has her arms folded in front of her chest, resembling an elegant goddess of wrath, with a coral blouse and her dark loose trousers. Not entirely certain, as Julia has her feelings protected like a fortress, but if he is not entirely mistaken, he thought he heard a tremor in her voice. Could this mean that.. no, certainly not. She has made that very apparent.

He is not entirely sure why he asks the next question. It’s a silly one by any standard, but yet there it is.

“Do you hate me?”

“Right now, I do,” her voice is firm but as David looks at her, he thinks he can see what he only heard before. Julia can’t stand the sight of him, yet the prospect of being out of each other’s lives seems to scare her as much as it scares him. Or so he assumes. 

What David does next is both very brave and potentially foolish. He should leave, he really should. Yet he can’t bring himself to. For a split second, they just look at each other. The temperature of the room seems to have dropped considerably since he first entered her flat. Her anger should be a warning, but instead, it all takes but two strides for David to have backed her against the wall next to the front door. In an instant, the chilliness gives way to fire and hunger. 

The heat of his body against hers is enough for any protest on her part to die on his lips. She feebly mumbles a weak “fuck you, David” and almost melts under his touch. Before he manages to plunge back into another searing kiss, she grabs him around his neck and pulls him towards her and bites his lip hard enough to draw blood. His attempt to move his head back, to be able to look into her eyes fails. There is no time for feelings or softness. Instead, she pulls him towards her mouth again. The taste of his blood in each other’s mouths.

The hunger of his kisses makes her dizzy. She doesn’t want to welcome it, but she is unable to resist him and her desire more than matches his. Their tongues tangle and battle with an urgency that has absolutely nothing gentle about it. It’s desperate and passionate. The cool and solid surface she feels against her back is a pleasant contrast to the fire he exudes and sets her aflame with.

Months of pent-up frustration and sexual desire are showing themselves in moans, grumbles and the pulling and raking of hair.

It is as if their bodies sigh in relief of being able to feel the other one again at last. They are immediately attuned to each other again, like two instruments playing in a duet. 

One button after the other is coming undone, the silky blouse unfurls in front of David. Julia feels the cool air on her hot skin and sighs in contentment as his hands cup her breasts and his thumbs brush against her nipples. 

“David…” she whimpers his name as one of the only things she can think of right now, “I hate you…”

“No, you don’t,” he drawls against her mouth and his hand travels down south to loosen the slacks and push them down, sending tremors down her spine, while his other hand loops around the back her neck, evoking a gasp of anticipation before his lips meet hers once more. For a moment, a long-gone softness passes between them and builds a bond that words weren’t able to. 

But yet again, the gentleness has to give way to pent-up passion fueled by anger. Her hands rake through his curls again, urge him on. By now any semblance of restraint or resistance is long gone and his tongue plunders into her mouth again. They are both utterly lost in each other, oblivious to anything around them. Julia briefly wonders if they might be heard outside but she can’t get herself to care enough. Too delicious is the feeling of his tongue against hers, of his hands dancing on her skin and of the anticipation of his skin on hers as she pulls his shirt over his head. She needs to feel him against her.

They break apart eventually to gasp for air. Julia sees how his eyes are darkened with desire and she knows that it must be the same in her case. Shucking off her blouse, at last, she opts for his belt buckle, impatient to get off the offending garment. Meanwhile, his fingers brush over her skin again, send delightful sensations through her body. For the first time in months, she feels alive.

His fingers join hers in removing his jeans, cover hers before their joined hands sweep over her body and their fingers end up interlacing over her head against the wall, while gasps and moans fill the air. 

“You and I… this can’t ever work,” she gasps out as he presses himself against her and pushes the last bit of air out of her lungs. 

“I disagree, we work perfectly well together,” he grunts against the sensitised skin of her neck, he now attacks. She wants to tell him not to mark her, not to make their coupling even more apparent to others, but the words that come out are different ones. 

“Just get on with it.”

She removes her hand from his, rakes her nails over his back toward the elastic of his boxer briefs, makes sure to leave a mark herself. This elicits a hiss from David’s lips. Her breath is caught when she feels the fingers of one hand rub her centre through the lace of her knickers. 

“Now,” she rasps and loops her arms around the back of his neck once again. Finally, his arms move away from her knickers, push down his own boxer briefs and support her as she wraps her legs around his waist at last. 

Part of David wants to tear the knickers from her body, but he knows that this is neither the time nor the place, so he simply moves them aside and pushes inside, burying himself deep inside her. 

The sigh of relief would certainly be audible to anyone who passes her flat right now. But that is the last of her problems at the moment. It is all too slow for her liking. So, she urges him on, bucks her hips even harder into his until they work in unison. Thrusting, groaning, moaning until the sweet relief of ecstasy rushes through them. Everything becomes a blur. 

David murmurs her name against her sweaty skin and they both move to sweet oblivion within minutes. Julia’s body is thrumming with satisfaction, her mind clearing of the fuzziness and she looks at him, while both desperately try to catch their breaths again.

Just then her doorbell rings. Both Julia and David look at each other in shock. She pushes herself away from him and he lets her down gently and pulls up his boxer briefs again. 

“Shit,” she murmurs and pulls her bra back into place and picks up her clothes from her floor in haste.

“Just a moment,” her voice sounds weak and out of breath and it takes everything in her to appear somewhat normal. 

Reality hits them like a freight train and she casts him a quick glance as he hops back into his jeans. What did they just do? She finally fastens the last of her buttons and swiftly rakes a hand through her hair, a feeble attempt to make her look less like someone who just had sex and more like the Julia Montague people were used to. 

Once she knows David looks more or less presentable, just like she does, she opens the door, only to find a flustered and awkward Samar stand in front of her, a bottle of wine in one hand and flowers in the other. 

“Samar, what a surprise” she breathes out, whilst ignoring the hot flushes that run down the back of her neck. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what just happened, even if he didn’t hear them. 

“I am sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you,” her colleague’s eyes dart between David and her, at a loss of what to say.

“Sergeant Budd was just leaving,” Julia replies, having finally regained part of her dignity, even though she assumes her skin must be still flushed, her lips feel swollen and her hair must be a mess, not to mention the state of her clothes. 

David nods awkwardly, casts her a curious glance and nods, murmuring one of his typical “ma’am”s as he slips past them. 

Neither knows what this little tryst will mean for their future if it means anything. David hopes it does, hopes she would text him later, perhaps even call him. Julia, however, cannot ponder over that just yet. She has more pressing matters at hand with Samar still looking at her dismayed and even a little crest-fallen.

“Have a good evening, sergeant,” she acknowledges as he is out of the door already. After chancing a last glance at her, David leaves her building, none the wiser than he was when he came here.

**Author's Note:**

> Samar Anand was based on Rishi Sunak (the Tory politician).
> 
> If you want the initial vibes for this fic, you can also listen to "I Am Fire" by J2 - I listened to this almost constantly while writing this.
> 
> And before you ask, this is a one-shot. ;)


End file.
